


Royally Screwed

by humble_mumbles



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben has some growing up to do, Ben is a Prince, F/M, Leia is the Princess of Wales, Padmé is the Queen of England, Playboy Ben Solo, Rey doesn't know pop culture, Rey's been living under a rock, Reylo Royal Wedding, Romance, Royalty, Skywalker-Solo Royal Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-13 04:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humble_mumbles/pseuds/humble_mumbles
Summary: Girl goes to pub, girl comes home with a Prince. Except she has no idea.An unexpected romance rocks the Royal Family of England, threatening the line of succession. Prince Benjamin falls in love with commoner Rey Jakken much to the Queen’s horror.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the Royal Wedding and wonderful, truly spectacular Reylos. This would _not _be seeing the light of day if it weren't for Mina (go read/admire her work[here](https://mrsvioletwrites.tumblr.com/) if you aren't aware of her already! She's AMAZING!). She's also the genius behind the artwork for Royally Screwed. __
> 
> __Enjoy!_ _

  
[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/149523562@N05/41411764915/in/datetaken/)

**HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE BENJAMIN OF WALES**

**AND MISS REY JAKKEN**

**ARE ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED**

Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Benjamin to Miss Rey Jakken.

The wedding will take place in the Spring of 2018 in London. Further details about the wedding day will be announced in due course.

Prince Benjamin and Miss Jakken became engaged in Norfolk on private holiday earlier this month. Prince Benjamin has informed The Queen and other close members of his family.

Following the marriage, the couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace.

* * *

_One Year Earlier_

Eyes still closed, she frowned.

There was a horrible kink in her neck, and the bed felt lumpy instead of sickeningly soft this morning.

With a groan, Rey rolled over and landed on the floor – or more specifically, landed face-first into cherry hardwood. The impact jolted her wide-awake.

“For the love of God…”

She rolled onto her side and clutched at her nose. It didn’t feel broken, but it hurt like a bitch.

“Are you all right?”

Ignoring the deep voice that echoed through the spacious room, Rey focused on breathing until the throbbing pain slowly ebbed.

Twisting onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling of the sitting room.

It was actually quite comfortable on the floor, more comfortable than the sofa she’d spent the night on. In fact, it was even more comfortable than the bed in her best friend’s guest bedroom, her humble abode since she’d returned from Bangladesh last week. The soft mattress that had welcomed her in London felt foreign. At the age of twenty-six, she had more experience sleeping on the hard ground than a mattress wherever she was stationed with the United Nations.

Suddenly, her view was obstructed by a floating head.

Sunbeams streamed in through the open curtains of the sitting room, illuminating her guest in his very own heavenly spotlight. His lean frame was highlighted by the light, long and sinewy. Soft midnight black locks brushed his shoulders, glinting and stark against the pale skin of his neck.  His features were hidden in the shadows, but there was no mistaking the aquiline line of his nose.

He held out his hand to help her to her feet.

A jolt of warmth zinged through Rey from his touch. His skin was smooth against her calloused palm.

Off the floor, Rey peered up at him.

“Oh, shit, you’re tall,” she exclaimed.

“You made the same observation last night,” he murmured with a chuckle, low and husky.

The words had flown out of her mouth when he’d hopped off his stool after he’d sat hunched over all night. It’d been hard to miss the height difference between him and every other man in the crowded pub.

Rey grinned up at him. “It bears repeating, Ben.”

It did.

Ben with-no-last-name was _massive._

Standing at well over five feet herself, there were few occasions where Rey felt the need to do more than raise her gaze to politely speak to others. With Ben, on the other hand, she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes – and what beautiful eyes they were. She’d mistaken them as dark brown in the dim lighting of the pub, but now she saw that they were hazel – a golden brown that reminded her of honey.

He released her hand and took a step back with a polite smile. “Good morning,” he greeted her – properly this time.

“Good morning,” Rey replied.  Despite the fact that they’d just exchanged the same words, the cadence of his speech was so much more refined than her own. He sounded so effortlessly posh and elegant.   

Of their own volition, Rey’s studied him and then bloomed in her stomach that nagging feeling of inadequacy.

There wasn’t a single wrinkle to his white dress shirt or his black trousers—the same clothes he’d slept in. With his navy blue sweater and trench coat neatly folded over his arm, he looked ready for another day of whatever it was that he did. He’d never said. Other than the rumpled hair, he was as polished and immaculately dressed as when he’d slipped onto the bar stool next to hers with a hat pulled low and sunglasses on.

Rey glanced down at the wrinkled shift dress Rose had insisted she wear last night. She resembled roadkill.

He surveyed the sitting room, taking in the ground floor flat. His eyes lingered on the sofa. “How was it that I ended up in your bed and you, on the sofa?”

“Oh.” She felt her cheeks grow warm. “You were a bit sloshed by the time we made it to my door, and I didn’t have the heart to let you sleep out here.”

Ben’s brows furrowed in silent question.  

“Your feet would have hung off the edge,” Rey explained, awkwardly gesturing at the considerable size difference between Ben and the length of the emerald green chesterfield.

His hazel orbs twinkled with amusement. “That was very considerate of you, but it wasn’t very gentlemanly of me to displace you from your bed.”

“I displaced myself,” she insisted, making her way – barefoot – to the kitchen that was attached to the sitting room.

“What a shame.”

Her steps faltered. Was he implying what she _thought_ he was implying?

Wide-eyed and heart racing, Rey slowly turned back around and stared at him blankly.

The coffee machine Rose set before she went on her morning run went off.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Rey pathetically blurted.

Oh, God. What was _wrong_ with her?

In a pitiful attempt to avoid his gaze, Rey started rummaging around to pour the elixir of life. She should’ve asked if he preferred tea.

“You’ve been more than generous.” She could hear the laughter that laced the sincerity of his words. “It’s not every day a stranger lets you get wasted and then tucks you into their bed.”

Turning back to face him with a steaming mug, she shrugged with a quirk of her lips.

He took note of the time on his wristwatch. “Besides, the cavalry will be here soon.”

 _Cavalry?_ She brows knitted. Before Rey could ask for clarification, a brisk knock drew their attention to the door.

“And that’ll be them,” Ben announced. He answered the door himself with a roguish smirk. “Good morning, Kenobi,” he greeted whoever Rey assumed was the “cavalry”.

The smell of leaves and crisp autumn air wafted into the flat. Oh, how she’d missed this season.

Quietly, Rey crept up behind Ben, his towering frame blocking her view of the “cavalry”. She leaned to the side to steal a glimpse of the man on her stoop. He was older than Ben, with a very distinguished quality to him. The open lapels of his trench coat revealed a black suit underneath – professional, but nondescript. His perfectly coiffed, sandy blonde hair was tinged with streaks of grey, and his sage blue eyes hinted at years of wisdom. He had an impressive beard that any man would envy.

“Good morning, Yo—”

“You’re right on time. Shall we?” Ben asked, thrusting his sweater at his friend and donning his jacket.

The older man raised a sharp brow and stepped back from the threshold. “I see you’re in one piece, sir,” Rey heard him comment.

“Much to your relief, I’m sure.”

“Unequivocally.” He released a long-suffering sigh. “No man wants to face your grandmother’s wrath.”

“Or my mother’s,” Ben added.

“Or your mother’s. If you’re ready, we—”

“Just a moment,” Ben cut him off, swiftly shutting the door in the man’s surprised face.

“Thank you for the lovely conversation last night.” He paused, a grateful smile curving his lips. “And the most peaceful night of sleep I’ve ever had.”

Rey’s eyes grew wide.

“It was very nice to meet you.” Ben paused, pursing his lips. He shifted his jaw back and forth slightly before he continued. “I’ll be seeing you soon, I hope.” He was gone before she could string together a response.

She sighed, staring at the door.

Well, that was an epic fail.

Rose had badgered her into a night out with the sole purpose of getting laid. And what had Rey managed to do? She’d served as a _hostel_ for a perfect stranger.

Rey made her way over to the kitchen counter and reached for the cup she’d poured for Ben. She would brush her teeth after she’d her coffee. If she wanted a fighting chance against Rose and her questions when she got back from her run, Rey needed caffeine.

Taking a sip of her coffee, Rey picked up the morning post on the countertop. Vaguely aware of Rose’s rushed footsteps on the steps to the flat, she unfolded the newspaper one handed and promptly choked on her coffee.

The door burst open.

_“Was that the Prince of Wales?”_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stunned by the response to this story. It's a crack fic and I'm having a blast writing it. 
> 
> As of right now, the plan is to update every week and hopefully my personal life will cooperate. 
> 
> From the bottom of my heart, _thank you _for the comments and kudos! I hope you enjoy this update!__

_“Was that the Prince of Wales?”_

Coffee leaking from her nose, Rey gawked at the front cover of _The Guardian_. Ben stared up at her, eyes glossy and unfocused in an unflattering grainy snapshot. The headline practically screamed off the page, “ _Wild Prince Benjamin!_ ”  

That was _definitely_ Prince Benjamin and he’d just left her flat.

There were certain pitfalls to a life spent jumping from continent to continent from infancy. It left Rey out of touch with the times. Apparently, to the point, that she didn’t recognize a member of the British Royal Family.

“Rey!” Rose shouted, her voice bouncing off the walls.

Her eyes met her best friend’s equally surprised ones.

Rose Tico, her childhood best friend was her tether to… everything. If it weren’t for her steadfast friendship with Rose, Rey would be _completely_ oblivious to the happenings of the world. More importantly, without Rose, she would be utterly alone. Hell, she wouldn’t even be in London if it weren’t for her.

“Well?” Her best friend demanded. Sweat dripped down her cheeks, flushed a rosy pink from her run. “What was Prince Benjamin doing here? What happened? What did I miss?”

Slowly, the shock wore off and her synapses jump started back to life. Rey brushed away the coffee dripping from her nose with a terry cloth, taking a moment to process her thoughts. Ben with-no-last-name was Prince Benjamin of Wales, second in line to the British throne.

Before Rey could formulate words to explain things, Rose’s deep set brown eyes narrowed. “Why do you have that look in your eyes?” She studied Rey intently. “That blank stare, the same look you have when you watch the telly and have no idea what century it is…”

“Um…”

“Rey!”

Since the age of eleven, Rose could read her like a book. There wasn’t any point lying to her. 

“I didn’t know it was him,” she admitted.

“ _What?_ ”

Rey nervously shuffled her feet, strangling the red terry cloth in her hands.

It wasn’t as though she didn’t know of the Royal Family. She just wasn’t up to date on them…

“How-what? How?” Rose sputtered, on the verge of an epileptic fit.

She shrugged helplessly.

A tense second followed before her best friend exploded.

_“You were on another continent not outer space!”_

Rey grimaced at her own idiocy.

“I can understand the lack of Marvel and Adele in the middle of the Congo,” Rose said sharply. “Your dismal pop culture knowledge is completely understandable, acceptable even, _but_ you’re English! You know of the Royal Family! They’ve been around for centuries.”  

Rey was British _lex sanguinis_ , born to British parents in Somalia. From birth, she was an absentee Brit. Her address was determined by first her parents’ humanitarian work and later her guardian’s until Rey followed in their footsteps. It was a miracle Rey was even aware of the British Monarchy. She had spent time on British soil sporadically enough to learn some of her heritage.

“How do you _not_ recognize Prince Benjamin?”

“He looks nothing like he did a decade ago,” Rey argued in her own defense. “I remember Prince Benny. He was pale and miserable. What happened to the gangly, elephant eared,” she gesticulated wildly to emphasis her words, “ghost that sulked in the background?”

“The boy grew up!”

He certainly had. Prince Benjamin didn’t resemble the awkward teenager Rey remembered.

“Wait, a minute,” Rose said abruptly. Her expression grew pensive. Rey could see the wheels turning in her head. “D-did you bring him home last night?” It took a split second for her to surmise how Rey’s evening ended. “You brought him home and slept on the _sofa_?” she hollered.

A tense second lapsed before Rose shouted, again, her outrage amplified by the high ceilings of the flat. “What part of “get laid” didn’t you get?”

It was a really simple errand. Instead of a trip to the shop for milk, it was a trip to the pub to pick up a man and get laid after a major dry spell. But, of course, Rey was so out of practice in all things in life that didn’t involve refugees and global conflicts, all she’d managed was to lull a man to sleep. Not just any man though, a prince. She’d bored a prince to sleep that she had to help him to her bed.

“Oh, dear God,” Rey cried. She swore at B—Prince Benjamin more than once.

“What am I going to do with you?” Rose groaned.

She brought home a bonafide prince and she had no clue.

It was pathetic.

She was _absolutely_ pathetic.

“Lock me up and throw away the keys, so I can die of embarrassment,” she cried. She buried her face in her hands. Her brain couldn’t even process the information. There was an outage and one of her frontal lobes was out of commission.

Prince Benjamin, the second in line to the throne of the United Kingdom stood in her flat less than five minutes ago and she had no inkling who he was. He must be having a good laugh at her expense.

“She meets the future King of the United Kingdom and she doesn’t recognize him. Absolutely mad. She’s absolutely freaking mad,” Rose muttered to herself, pacing back and forth across the room.

Wait, Rose called him the Prince of Wales when she burst into their flat. When did Princess Leia die?

“Did Princess Leia die?”

Rey was behind on current affairs, but she wasn’t _that_ out of the loop. She was fully aware of Brexit and the three ring circus across the pond. The news of a death in the Royal Family, especially The Queen’s, would have reached her. It was unlikely Queen Padmé had passed away for Prince Benjamin to move up in the line of succession. The Queen’s death would have brought the entire world to a grinding halt. The aftershocks would have left the global market in shambles and even Rey wouldn’t have missed that in the middle of nowhere.

“What?” Rose rounded on her. “No! Princess Leia is as healthy as a horse.”

“Then, why did you call him the Prince of Wales?”

Rose’s facial expressions contorted between exasperation and pure disbelief. “I’m sorry the future Prince of Wales. I’m human, I make mistakes, and you know the lack of oxygen to my brain and all from the shock didn’t help.”

“Oh.” Rey lamely nodded her head.

“It’s too early for a drink,” Rose announced, stalking over to the kitchen. “It’ll have to be strong coffee and leftover crumb cake.”

Her usually calm and collected friend swept through the kitchen, throwing open cabinet doors and nearly ripping the fridge door off before scrambling over to the kitchen island. She hopped onto a stool and held out a fork for Rey.

“Start from the top,” Rose ordered sternly. “Don’t leave a single thing out.”

“Uh...” Rey joined Rose and fiddled with the fork. “There isn’t much to tell. He sat down at the pub next to me.”

“You picked him up at the Cuckoo’s Nest? You’re joking!”

“I didn’t exactly pick him up...” she hedged. There was no picking up. There really wasn’t even any flirting... at least she didn’t think there was. They’d shared a pint of beer at the local pub while she’d prattled on about her work. He had seemed harmless enough to invite back to the flat.

“You brought him home from the pub, that constitutes as picking him up. Go on! Did you make the first move? Who am I kidding?” Rose scoffed. “With his reputation, he made the first move.”

What reputation?

“Besides, you have no moves,” Rose joked.

“Hey! I have moves,” Rey objected, affronted by the statement.

Rose gave her a knowing look.

“They’re just rusty,” she mumbled.

“Give me the details!” Rose squealed.

She was going to have to break her heart. “Rose... nothing happened.”

“I get that you didn’t sleep with him,” Rose dismissed her with a flick of her wrist. “It explains why you were fully dressed and on the chesterfield this morning. But something _had_ to have happened. You’re not that hopeless.”

Her response was silence.

Rose paused with a forkful of crumb cake at her lips. “Wait… you really mean _nothing_ happened?”

Her face burned from the intensity of her blush.

“Rey!” Rose dropped her fork along with her forehead to the kitchen island. “You had a prince in your bed and you slept on the sofa.”

“It wasn’t like that! Nothing romantic!”

Sitting up, her best friend made a sound of displeasure. “Please tell me you’re at least seeing him, again.”

_“I’ll be seeing you soon, I hope.”_

Rey shook her head. “I highly doubt it.”

He was a prince and she was a nobody.

* * *

“Ask.”

The single syllable bounced off the quiet interior of the town car stuck in London traffic.

“Your Highness?” Kenobi shifted next to Ben, setting down the newspaper he’d been reading.

“Go ahead and ask,” Ben prompted. He stretched out his legs as best he could and settled in for the drive to Kensington Palace. “I know you’re dying to.”

“Dying to ask seems a tad dramatic.” He arched a sardonic brow.

“Kenobi.” He matched his body guard’s raised brow. “In another life, you were a granny with a knitting circle and gossip was your sustenance. Go ahead and ask.”

Obi-wan Kenobi had been his bodyguard since he’d drawn his first breath. It was no exaggeration that the former MI6 agent had been Ben’s shadow all his life. The man had helped deliver Ben in route to St. Mary’s Hospital. As such, there were few people in the world he knew as well as Kenobi. He would even go so far as to say he knew Kenobi better than his own parents.

“You could just tell me.”

“I rather you ask politely,” Ben replied. There was nothing he loved more than rankling Kenobi.

“How was your evening?”

Ben snorted. “That’s your leading question?”

“You said to ask politely.” Kenobi flashed him a cheeky smile. “And I’m politely asking, how was your evening?”

His lips curved into a soft smile.

The number of words to describe last night was endless. It was wrong of him to have taken advantage of Rey. It was obvious from the moment she'd introduced herself she didn’t know who he was. Her ignorance of his title made perfect sense when he'd learned of her humanitarian work around the world. Rey hadn’t spent enough time on British soil to know who he was.

She'd spoken freely, nothing stiff or stilted in how she’d expressed herself. Typically, people were often terrified of making a misstep and it look some cajoling on his part to hold a conversation. It'd been refreshing to spend an evening void of all the pomp and ceremony that came with interacting with the public.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone swore at him. It didn’t count when it was his mother or Poe.

“It was...”

The English language wasn’t sufficient to describe his evening.

Kenobi’s eyes brightened with astonishment. “She must be special.”

She was.

Rey Jakken was unlike any other woman he’d ever met. It had nothing to do with the fact she didn’t recognize him. That was just an added bonus. There was something about her. Honest, down-to-earth, humble failed to capture the sincerity of her character. She'd expected nothing of him last night or this morning. Of course, he wasn’t naive. It would all change the moment she learned who he really was. He could only hope she was an exception.

The car came to a stop, drawing Ben’s attention to the towering gates looming ahead of them. He found himself staring up at the sprawling entrance to Buckingham Palace.

“This isn’t Kensington,” he stated the obvious. A trickle of trepidation skipped down his spine.

“I’m aware.”

Ben turned sharply to Kenobi, waiting for an explanation.

“You were summoned.”

His eyes closed in silent agony. “This can’t be good.”

“It never is,” Kenobi quipped.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I swear this is still a crack fic... _but_ it involves royalty and things were bound to get dicey for Prince Ben.  
>  Please remember I've taken a few liberties with the royal family since this is fiction.  
> Thank you all for the kudos and feedback! I'm so tickled people are enjoying this.  
> 

He wasn’t invited, but summoned.

Typically, it’s an invitation to tea with your grandmother while she knitted a jumper... But in Ben’s case, it was _never_ an invitation. It was a summons when your grandmother happened to be the Queen of the United Kingdom and she yielded a diamond encrusted scepter instead of knitting needles.

Anxiety clawed at him.

Ben took a quick inventory of his recent activities.

“Monte Carlo,” Kenobi reminded him, his attention once again on the post. 

He flinched.

Damn, Monte Carlo.

“You don’t think...” Ben trailed off.

“Oh, I know,” his body guard replied, holding up the incriminating front page of _The Guardian_.

“Bloody hell.”

He found himself staring at the ghastly sight of himself three sheets to the wind.

It was a paparazzi shot from outside a club from a week ago in Monte Carlo. His glassy eyes, practically black in print, stared back at him, dazed and disorientated. There wasn’t anything scandalous about the club or the image itself—other than his inebriated state—but the timing of his escapade was another matter altogether. He was recently dubbed “throne idle” by the British media with the fewest royal engagements attended than anyone else in the House of Windsor.

“She’s going to kill me,” he sighed in resignation. He ran an anxious hand through his hair.

“You’re confusing Her Majesty with your mother,” Kenobi disagreed. “Her Majesty will do much worse, more likely hang you from the turrets.”

“Not helping,” Ben growled, glaring at him, “and Buckingham doesn’t have turrets.”

“True.” Kenobi paused with a thoughtful look. His hand hovered on the handle to the passenger door as the car eased to a stop. “But St. James does,” he merrily pointed out before practically skipping out of the car.

There was no question his Nana loved him. Queen Padmé was no different from any other grandmother in that respect. In fact, she doted on her only grandchild, smothering him with love and attention. However, with a throne as his inheritance, he had certain expectations to live up to, such as attending royal events in lieu of gambling and partying with his mates. More importantly, he had violated a cardinal rule dictated by the Queen—discretion at all costs.

At least, it was a summons from his grandmother and not his mother.

Grudgingly, Ben emerged from the car.

“Your Hi—”

“I’ll deal with you later,” he effectively cut off his private secretary, Dopheld Mitaka, and swiftly made his way into Buckingham. He demanded little of his staff. An advance warning before an audience with the Queen was at the top of the list. He was strongly disinclined to visiting his grandmother in clothes from the night before. He had some dignity.

Upwards of three hundred thousand tourists passed through the doors of the neoclassical behemoth in the heart of London, strolling through the White Drawing Room and admiring the Picture Gallery with a private collection that rivaled the Louvre. It was a tourist trap, but to Ben, Buckingham Palace was one of his family’s ancestral seats and his grandmother’s official London residence.

Soft murmurs of “Your Highness” trailed after Ben as he made his way to his grandmother’s private quarters. The one’s the public would never be privy to.

“Why are we sprinting?” Kenobi complained under his breath, matching Ben stride for stride despite their difference in height.

He jerked his head over his shoulder.

Mitaka struggled to keep pace with them.

“You need to stop torturing that poor boy,” Kenobi chided him.

Ben smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?

They reached the ornate double doors to the Queen’s private suites. A pair of the Queen’s guardsmen stood at attention. The crimson red of their uniforms stark against the white doors decorated with gold leaf wainscoting. As they approached one of the doors opened and a willowy frame slipped through the crack.

“Your Highness.” Lady Sabé emerged from the private chambers and effortlessly executed an elegant curtsy.

“Good morning, Lady Sabé,” Ben warmly greeted his grandmother’s Senior Lady-in-Waiting. “Will she see me now?” There was no need to specify who he was referring to.

“Her Highness is waiting for you in the kitchen.” She paused before she added, “She’s far from pleased, Sir.”

He winced at the underlying disapproval in her voice. The Queen’s happiness was Lady Sabé’s priority after all. “Thank you.” With a polite departing nod, Ben began his trek to the kitchen.

“No need to follow,” he tossed over his shoulder at his small entourage.

Memories of childhood past shadowed every step he took. 

He had fond memories of running through the vast corridors with arms splayed wide playing airplane. His lonely echoes of _whoosh_ and _voom_ bouncing off the vaulted ceilings.

As Ben drew closer to the kitchen, a distinct voice reached him.

“Gerald,” he heard his grandmother say sternly, “I will see to the situation as I see fit. He is my grandson after all.”

His muscles grew agonizingly taut.

He wasn't scared of his grandmother, but a summons came with a bevy of implications. Grandson or not, she still had the authority to send him to the gallows. It’s nerve-wrecking when your Nana held more power in her tiny pinky than a continent of developed nations. And from the sounds of it, she was far from pleased.

With a fortifying breath, Ben stepped into the kitchen to face the music. 

“Grandmother.”

The sound of his voice was sufficient to bring the kitchen staff to a standstill. In perfect synchrony, the staff dipped into bows and curtsies before standing at attention at their workstations.

“Good morning.” He nodded his head.

A chorus of “Good morning, Your Highness” filled the room.

His grandmother looked up from her perch at the breakfast table set for two, tucked into an alcove with a view of the Queen’s Garden. In an oversized purple jumper, she appeared almost ordinary, but there was a regal bearing to her that would forever separate Queen Padmé from commoners.

“You’re late.” Her words were terse, but there was that affectionate gleam to her hazel brown eyes that was solely reserved for him.

Despite the unease that plagued him, the corners of lips kicked up of their own volition. “Better late than never,” he quipped. “Good morning, Nana.” Following a customary bow of his head, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. She always demanded a kiss. The smell of lilacs lingered around him when he drew back.

“Your impertinence will be the end of you.”

“So you’ve said since I was five and yet, here we are.”

A smattering of snickers came from the staff.

Queen Padmé shook her head in amusement. Her gaze traveled over the kitchen staff.

Obediently, the staff promptly filed out of the kitchen, save for one.

“You too, Gerald,” Queen Padmé added to her ever present Private Secretary.

Sir Gerald Palpatine held the highest ranking position in the Royal Household. He joined the household long before Ben was glimmer in his parents’ eyes, moving swiftly up the ranks. With the exception of greying hair, the man didn’t appear to be slowing down. He performed his duties with great pride, meticulously managing Her Majesty’s households and affairs, protecting the monarchy at all costs.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Lord Palpatine left the Queen’s side. He paused in the threshold of the doorway. With piercing eyes trained on Ben, he slowly pulled the sliding doors together to grant them some privacy. 

A strained silence filled the air.

He swallowed roughly. This was worse than being called to the headmaster’s office.

“Would you like some tea?” His grandmother finally said. 

His stomach grumbled.

“Perhaps some breakfast?” She arched a knowing brow. “A fresh set of clothes?”

With a sheepish smile, he answered, “Let’s start with breakfast.”

Queen Padmé patted the seat besides her.

Ben took the place that was undoubtably set for him at the table. She poured him a cup of coffee while he piled his plate with his favorites, the scene no different than many he’d shared with his grandmother. 

Buttering his toast in deceivingly calm strokes, Ben took a moment to study the matriarch of his illustrious family. 

Queen Padmé I had cemented her place in history, alongside her formidable ancestors, since her ascension to the throne. She was a queen who wasn’t meant to be queen, but as circumstances would have it she was approaching the longest reign by a monarch in history. Despite the turbulent years that befell the country and monarchy during her rule, she had maintained tradition while creating a modern role for the aging institution.It was a heavy burden to carry, but she carried it with unfaltering grace and dignity. He would never measure up to her as king. 

“I wanted you to know before the vultures,” she began, stirring her tea in languid circles. “Your cousin will be making an announcement today.”

“Oh, thank God,” he whispered to his toast. The summons wasn’t about Monte Carlo.

“Did you say something, dear?”

“Delicious toast.” Ben held up the buttered toast and took an enthusiastic bite. 

His grandmother’s expression turned perplexed before she dismissed his strange behavior. “As I was saying, your cousin has an announcement.”

“He’s getting a new cat?” He couldn’t help himself. The words just popped out of his mouth.

“Benjamin!”

“What?” He grinned at her over his scrambled eggs. “He did announce the birth of his last litter of cats.”

She glared at him impatiently.

“Forgive me, Nana. I couldn’t help myself.” He composed himself. His cousin had news and it was clearly important enough that he was summoned on short notice.

“He’s engaged.”

Ben scowled at her frank announcement.

“To his cat?”

Who else would want to be shackled to the arse for eternity?

His grandmother covered her face in distress, but not before he spied the corners of her lips tilting up. She was amused, but fighting the urge to humor him.

“Benjamin Anakin James,” she admonished him once she composed herself. “Your cousin is engaged to Lady Phasma.”

Lady Phasma was  _definitely_  not of the feline kind. 

Dazed, he stared at her. “Oh.”

“He’ll be holding a press conference this afternoon followed by an intimate interview with the couple,” his grandmother continued, picking up her tea-cup. “They haven’t set a date, but the wedding will be in the coming weeks.”

“Hux the Pox is getting married?”

His grandmother’s eyes widened in horror, tea-cup hovering on her lips. “Are you still calling him that?”

“I never stopped,” he recovered from his shock and smirked shamelessly. There was no love loss between Ben and Hux.

“For heaven’s sakes,” she muttered under her breath. “Hux the Pox.”

Ben happily devoured his bangers and mash while his grandmother came to terms with his childish behavior. 

She cleared her throat demurely and focused on the matter at hand. “Yes, Armitage is getting married.

“Congratulations to the happy couple?” he said incredulously. 

“Benjamin.” Her tone turned somber. She carefully set down her tea and leaned back in her wing backed chair to observe him. “This is your _annus horribilis,”_ she declared. 

“That’s an unnecessary hyperbole,” he rebuked.

“It’s not quite as horrible as my own,” she admitted.

“You don’t say,” he said sarcastically.

His grandmother’s personal _annus horribilis_ was on par with Anne Boleyn’s sans any beheading. Queen Padmé’s horrible year consisted of loss, sorrow, scandal, a change in the line of succession, a fire and a distressed public. It was Shakespearian in nature.

“Regardless, you’ve had a memorable year.” The corners of her lips curled sardonically before she added, “for all the wrong reasons.”

Ben rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tips of his ears grow warm.

“The skiing incident,” she began.

It was an unfortunate injury.

“The strippers.”

A friend’s stag weekend.

“The story on your canabis habits,” she huffed in a very unladylike manner.

“While I was at Eton,” he exclaimed. The media’s attention to Ben had been outrageous this year, worse than in previous years. “And it was once, _once_.”

His grandmother arched a brow. “Once is more than enough.”

Ben sighed. This wasn’t as dreadful as he expected, but he rather listen to Hux drone on about exotic cat breeds until his ears bled than a recounting of every headline attached to his name.

“The most grievous were the rumors of a certain countess,” she scoffed. 

He groaned. “They weren’t true.”

“So you say.” His grandmother rolled her eyes over her tea-cup.

He blinked at her. She was rolling her eyes at him.

“I’m far from pleased with the unnecessary attention to the family.”

The air cackled with her displeasure before it snapped in tandem with her heavy sigh.

“Benjamin,” she exhaled. Her eyes softened. “I loathe to scold you, but you’ve cultivated a certain reputation…”

“Nana...” he begged, now fully cognizant of the purpose of this summons. Hux-much to his grandmother's dismay- was next in line for the throne after Ben. Ben had to produce an heir to secure a direct succession through the Skywalker bloodline.

Her hazel eyes grew sharp. “You’re thirty years old. It’s time you gave me some great grandbabies.”

“That can be arranged.” Ben perked up.

“Legitimate ones,” she snapped.

His enthusiasm waned. “That, not so much.”

“Benjamin.”

“Yes, Nana?”

“You’re past the age of carousing with beautiful women in Monte Carlo.”

He winced.

“Yes, I’m aware of your latest exploits and right after those numbers of your royal engagements or lack thereof came out. Truly, Benjamin,” she tsked. “I expect better from you. Not to mention discretion, but Monte Carlo? Such a cliché.”

Ben fought the urge to cover his face. His grandmother was criticizing his lack of originality for partying. 

“Benjamin,” she exhaled slowly.

“I know,” he mumbled. He was fully aware of his royal duties.

“Please,” she begged, reaching across the table to cover his hand with hers.

He studied her dainty hand, the wrinkled skin sprinkled with age spots. It was the same hand that held his on the balcony of Buckingham for his first Trooping the Color. There were few in his life that held their hand out in support. His grandmother’s was steadfast and ever-present. He hated to disappoint her.

“It’s time you settled down.”

Laughing hazel eyes and a beaming smile came to mind.

“Gerald has compiled a list of suitable ladies,” she prattled on. “All of good breed and noble families.” 

Suitable… Rey Jakken was far from suitable.

He nodded is head in silent understanding.

Last night would be nothing more than fleeting memories.

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember feedback feeds the muse. 
> 
> And visitors are always welcome on my [tumblr](http://mumblesmusings.tumblr.com/)! Swing by and drop an ask in my inbox =)


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